


a lion to frighten wolves, a fox to recognise traps

by jonphaedrus



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M, drop me one if you want more idk, prompt drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5392343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonphaedrus/pseuds/jonphaedrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>volpelli drabbles</p><p>i -- "ducks"</p>
            </blockquote>





	a lion to frighten wolves, a fox to recognise traps

**Author's Note:**

> here i am the trash man in the trash can. i know zero italian
> 
> prompt was "ducks"
> 
> (drop me a prompt [here](http://professorjonathanphaedrus.tumblr.com/ask)

Machiavelli woke up with the sun against the back of his eyelids, and made a quiet noise as he felt the kinks in his lower back. Outside, there was the noise of a bustling day on the Tiber, shouts, screams.

And...quacks.

_Quacks?_

Sitting up, groaning as he went from mostly asleep to mostly awake very quickly, Niccolò rubbed at the back of his eyes and blinked at the scene in front of him.

“What the fuck,” he finally managed, voice thick with sleep, scrubbing at his eyes again as he tried to reconcile what he was seeing with...what he was seeing. 

His hair was a wreck, his mouth tasted like ass ( _literally_ , given the night before), the small of his back ached like a demon, and Gilberto was sitting, _naked_ , in _his bed_ with his upper body leaned all the way out the window while he merrily cackled and kept chucking...bread. Bread. Out the window.

“What the fuck?” Niccolò managed again, and the thief looked over at him, his long greying hair knotted up in a bun, his purple eyes dancing. “Why are you. What?”

“ _Tesoro_ , your silver tongue fails you.”

“Why do you have bread?” His brain had, apparently stuck on that one fact like a burr on a cloak. “Why do you have _bread_ in my _bed?”_

“The _anatre_ are back, Niccolò!” Niccolò made an extremely unhappy noise when Gilberto grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to blink blearily into the sun. “Look!”

“Those are ducks,” Machiavelli replied, because whatever was going on, he had clearly not yet actually caught up with it. “Ducks.”

“ _Sì, sì._ ” Gilberto tore off another piece of bread and tossed it down, even as Machiavelli gave up on sitting up and slowly put his face onto the other man’s shoulder, eyes half-closed as he watched the thief toss bread merrily to the ducks.

“You woke up and opened my shades before dawn because of ducks,” he finally groused, but La Volpe didn’t stop merrily feeding the birds, still laughing every once in a while as they flapped around awkwardly in the water. As they sat there, the dawn light spilling further into the room, before long a boat slid into view, disturbing some of the ducks, the flock scattering across the Tiber. 

Ezio was rowing, and he leaned on the barge pole and looked up at the two men together in the window and began laughing when he saw them.

“Niccolò! You, up so early, after the night you had? Volpe, you had best try harder to tire him out!” 

“ _Vaffanculo, stronzo!”_ Machiavelli shouted down at the man below, and Ezio busted out in a wild laugh. Furious and still tired, Niccolò stood up and stormed off to go find clothes, not caring that Ezio was doubtlessly looking at his ass through the open window. He was too tired, and too angry, to deal with Ezio _and_ Gilberto.

As he left, the last thing Niccolò heard was La Volpe calling down, “Ezio! You’re scaring my ducks!”


End file.
